Out here in California, I run into a fair amount of people who change their names. It's usually into something a bit more frilly or new age-y than the original. Some of you are in the know that even I did it, from Jessica to Ski, legally- but it wasn't supposed to be some hippy dippy thing; I was on the lam, and it was a sort of evolution of a chopped nickname.
It's like a bug that keeps biting me. Every few years I get the wild notion of changing my name again. I'm always completely serious about it- but the names are never serious, not at all. Well, one name is less of a joke than others: Dorothy. This little alias came about in my early 20's, when I was going though an insatiable early 20th century literary phase (a coincidence I've only just now realized). I wore my hair in a 20's (the decade) bob, and one evening when some drunken yahoo tried to cozy up to me at the bar and asked my name, I told him Dorothy, as in, Dorothy Parker. You see, I have this thing about people saying my name. It rubs me all kinds of the wrong way when someone I am not on intimate terms with says my name. Those sales type people who try to personalize and add your name to the end of every sentence? I am overcome with the urge to go so far as to behead them, it irks me THAT MUCH. It's like it's my most personal, precious thing, and you have to earn the privelege of speaking my name- I honestly feel that way about it. To this day, if a stranger asks my name, I tell them it's Dorothy.
So back to the jokes. I think the first time I got really excited about changing my name again was in my mid twenties, to Dolly. That sweet little bud of a name came engraved on a bowling ball I picked up at a thrift store, and the joke was that it was my bowling persona- I even had the gingham shirt to match. The really weird thing is that ten years later, an exceptionally sweet and loving new child at my school was convinced upon meeting me that my name was Dolly. I heard about it second hand, through a teacher who could not figure out who she was referring to in a story she told in class one day. The mystery was solved when I came in later and she said, "Hi, Dolly!" She continued to accidentally call me that, even after she knew my name, for about a year.
At thirty, I became obsessed with Dusty. I thought it to be a hilarious name for a girl, but didn't think I could pull it off as a brunette. It's a blonde name, for sure, and might possibly involve a 70's muscle car that I don't have. By my mid thirties, coinciding with a reconnection to my true home, I was absolutely convinced that Texarkana was the funniest name ever, and that it would be the biggest laugh if folks would call me 'Tex'. To be honest, I swiped the idea from a conversation I had with a girl I met from Houston, who told the story of a girl named either Texas or Houston, I can't remember now. I am actually still convinced that it might be the best name ever, and have managed to collect a few folks that humor me, and do, indeed, call me Tex on occasion.
Fast forward to this very morning, a little shy of the half decade name change itch. In reading about Eudora Welty's southern gardens, I came to know that her mother's name was Chestina. Chestina!! That is brilliantly awesome! And so, at this very moment in time, I desperately want my name to be, not Chestina, but Chester. Wouldn't that be the most fun?! Just use your imagination for a moment, and think about how much we would laugh every time we said hello if you called me Chester. So close to Chesty, an old joke of a nickname, but my many nicknames are a whole different story for another time.
I'm quite sure there have been other name obsessions, but these are the most prominent in my mind.
I think the most important information coming out of this note is that its probably a very good thing that I did not give birth to a girl.
